The torrential rains earlier this week sparked a nascent memory – my worst ever commute. I sometimes ride a short stretch along the south side of Greenlake here in Seattle. The route’s very nice, bike lanes, slow park-bound traffic, beautiful old trees, and of course the lake itself is just a few dozen feet away. This particular late fall/early winter season had seen endless rain and I was getting used to plowing through puddles rather than trying to ride around them. I even found a set of postman’s golashes to keep my feet dry. I should have recognized water freely flowing across the entire roadway as the first sign of trouble. Instead I rode bravely on, diving into larger and larger puddles, and hey, I was starting to enjoy the challenge. All that came to an abrupt halt at the last and deepest puddle. Somewhere about 1/4 way across the water got so deep it came in over the top of my rubber overbooties. My choices were limited: Keep pedaling and get your feet soaked, or get off and get your calves soaked. Needless to say I pedaled through, barely making enough speed to stay up right all the way across. The post-puddle options weren’t much better, and I wet-footed it the rest of the way home.
What’s your worst?
Runner’s up: Falling off my bike after nearly getting creamed by some lady in a white pickup 50 feet from my house. Surprised, yes, angry, yes. Worst part? My fancy cellphone screen (in my front pocket) got totally obliterated.
Doored on Greenwood: It was all over so quickly it was hard to get too mad about it. The lady was very apologetic, and my injuries were very minor (I was turning left, headed up hill). Just lucky for me there wasn’t any traffic behind me or I’d have a squashed noggin.
Something about the fact that I could avoided the puddles makes it worse than the random happanstance of injury.…
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